


Paradise

by Lidsworth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brain Damage, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Post-Order 66, Traumatic Brain Injuries, Violence, implied Codywan, implied depression, implied wolffe/plo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: Plo survives Order 66, though his men struggle to do the same. And some of them don’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story centers around the clones coping after they were forced to turn on their generals during Order 66. I plan to write more than just Plo and Wolffe (and Warthog) depending on the feedback! I’m my own beta, so beware of the mistakes!
> 
> Please tell me how you felt about it, I live off of comments! Kudos too please! Come chat with my on [My tumblr!](http://inkstranger.tumblr.com/) (i talk about Tolkien and Star Wars!

With great effort (and surprise), Jedi Master Plo Koon lifts himself into a sitting position, cringing slightly as he brings his back against the cold metal railing of the bed, and leans his head against the wall.

Groaning, the Jedi slowly opens his eyes, taking in his surroundings one by one.

From what he can gather, judging by the bright lights and white walls that filter through his goggles, coupled with intense oxygen present in the vicinity, the old Kel Dor deduces that his is in a med bay.

His senses flutter in slowly after that. Sound, touch, smell, and sensation follow right after the other, and suddenly, he can feel the ghost of an ache all over his damaged body, recalling his agony as vividly as he does the incident that caused it.

The incident being his men’s betrayal.

He thanks the numbing medicine in his body for mugging his senses, as dealing with the fallout of their actions—now—in such a damaged state, would sent him into certain unconscious.

However, despite the medicine in his body, his sensory organs _are_ aching.  And it’s not the lasting effects of the crash that are causing the discomfort. And for the life of him, Plo cannot pinpoint what exactly is the source of his pain.   

It’s an intense ache, sharp and acute, like a gnawing migraine in the back of his head. And it only seems to grow with the passing time.

Plo grunts, bringing his clawed hands to the sides of his head in an attempt to offer some relief to the growing ache. But it works to no avail, and instead seems to aggravate the awful sensation even more.

It’s not very long until it becomes unbearable, and before Plo knows it, he’s screaming as he is slammed with bulk of pain all at once.

It hits him like a blaster bolt to his head, an excruciating sensation radiating through his body as if he is above Cato Neimoidia again.

It feels like lights extinguishing in the Force once more, as if that dreaded moment has passed over him again. It’s a surge of _death,_ all at once, and it erupts like an explosion within his being, causing his chest to clench and his breath to short. He’s clutching onto the thin white fabric of his hospital gown, panting he struggles to regain his breathing.

There is a presence at his side immediately—gentle, fleshy fingers interlocking with his, prying his claws away from his chest.

“General—Plo—It’s okay, calm down,” the voice, one of many, yet so distinctive, speaks softly, “you’re okay, everything is going to be fine, sir.”

Plo goes still underneath the touch, deflating into the stiff mattress as he allows his fingers to curl against the other’s. He stays quiet for some time, gaze taking in the unscathed, concerned expression of the clone, thanking the Force that Wolffe survived.

“Wolffe,” he rasps, nearly jolting at how _awful_ his voice sounds, though continues nonetheless, “What happened?”

Wolffe takes a seat by Plo atop of the bed, never untangling his fingers from the Kel Dor’s.

Uncertain amber eyes meet the goggled alien’s, and with a silent resignation, the man sighs.  

And then he speaks.

The conversation isn’t very long. For the most part, there is talk of inhibitor chips and orders, of Palpatine as a Sith Lord, and of the Great Jedi Purge. Skywalker, as Wolffe had called him, had been ensnared by the Sith Lord.

He had given his allegiance and loyalty to the man, and had done so at the expense of the Republic and Jedi.

It had been short lived though. Anakin had turned his saber against the Chancellor last minute. However, in his time allied with the dark, Order 66 had befallen the Jedi.

Countless Jedi had been slain, and many more gravely injured.

Anakin had halted the order midway, but had been too late to spare the Order of the worst of the damage.

Less than half of the Jedi remained.

 “You’re a lucky to be alive, general,” Wolffe adds, “The temple healers didn’t accept you, as injured as you were. Thought you were dead I suppose.  Our med team managed to patch you up when he came back to himself, was glad to do it too…we’re in the barracks now.”

Plo notices the sudden weight that seems to befall his commander as he speaks of their men, notices how his demeanor changes from a practical solider, communicating a report to his general, to the broken commander that had fallen apart after the attack from the _Malevolence_ , as if he has lost his men _all_ over again.

As if he has lost _their_ men.

Plo stills, mind slipping from its semi collected state, to the frantic state moments before, when his heart ached at the onslaught of loss from the Force. Then, Plo had believed the surge of death to be those of his fellow Jedi. But he had felt their deaths as he flew above Cato Neimoidia **.**

This was different.

The agony he felt upon waking was new. It felt as if it had happened no more than a day or two ago,  his sudden waking the only reason he felt such loss all at once.

Such familiar loss. Not like the loss of his Jedi comrades. No, like the loss of his family, of his brothers.

Of his men.

His heart drops to the pit of his stomach at the sudden revolution.

“Wolffe,” he says dryly, “Where are the others? The ones who shot my fighter down. Where is Warthog?”

Wolffe is silent for a long while, eyes dropping to his lap, where he held Plo’s taloned hands.

“Most of them are dead, sir. Anyone who tried to hurt you is dead,” explains the commander, his voice anguished, “We’ve lost a great many.”

“How? Did the Jedi—“

“Warthog turned his blaster to his temple when the medical team began operating on you. There was nothing I could do to stop him, General. I didn’t even notice until it was too late. And, well, after that, the others seemed to take a hint and did the same. Your air support, General…they’re dead. All of them. They were so guilty, they didn’t mean to hurt you and when they thought they’d killed you, none of them could live with themselves. And the members of 104th aren’t the only ones who’ve gone out that way. General Kenobi found Cody in his bedroom the other day, brains knocked out…”

Wolffe can’t stop once he starts, and Plo is spared none of the gruesome details. Though his only saving grace is the fact that he only listens to Wolff’s voice, not paying much attention to what he is actually saying. He lost focus after Wolffe had revealed to him the death of his wingman and dear friend, Warthog.

Aimlessly, he reaches out into the force. Wispy tendrils of star dust searching the void for the familiar soul he’d come to know and love so well.

To his horror, he is met with an eerie, uncomfortable silence, as if someone had been so viciously yanked from the Force and the very galaxy was attempting to resume its order without them.

He reaches again, recalling memories, feelings, and sensations that may help him find Warthog, that may help him find his men. He calls each of them by name, and when there is no answer, he calls them by number.

The Kel Dor is met with nothing.

It takes very little time for Master Plo to realize that his entire air-strike team is dead, killed by self-inflicted wounds to the head.

His brothers, his _sons..._ dead. Plo was a pilot, those men were his family, and losing them so suddenly and brutally certainly explains the pain he felt moments ago.

“What of the others, Wolffe?” the Kel Dor barely manages, “Those who weren’t involved in the assault above Cato Neimoidia …are they still with us?”

“Back on Kamino, sir,” answers the commander,  much to the Jedi’s relief, “Some are in Coruscant helping where they can…and some, I really don’t know where they are. It’s a mess out there General.” 

He can sense his Commander’s dismay, can sense his mask of composure and control breaking at the mention of the clones’ unstable situation. Plo may have lost his men, and while they were his family, they were Wolffe’s brothers—they were his equals.

And Wolffe had lost them.  

All because of the chips. The chips that the order _knew_ about.

Plo feels like throwing up.

“I’m so sorry, Wolfe” Plo pulls his hands from Wolffe’s grasp.

“General?” Alarmed, the man turns towards the Jedi.

“I—We—the Order, we knew about these chips. We should have done more, more to protect the Republic. More to protect your brothers.”

Wolffe said nothing. For this, he already knew. And he and Plo had had their arguments, and Wolffe his opinions on the matter, but neither figured, neither _hoped_ that they would have to revisit them. Not like this.

Through their connection, he can feel Wolffe’s anger. Can feel his confusion, his betrayal. His _hate._

If _only_ the Jedi had acted, if _only_ the Jedi had done their job correctly.

Then _this_ could have been avoided.

Plo reaches out onto the Force one last time, reaches as far into the unknown as his senses will allow him.

“I could sense his fear, Wolffe…he was so scared,” Plo speaks silently, “so guilt ridden as my fighter crashed into the building. And all the while, I wanted nothing more to wrap him in my arms and tell them that it was okay, that I held no contempt or distain towards him. Towards any of them.”

The Kel Dor is met with a telling silence, Wolffe only directs his gaze towards his lap, eyes misted over.

“I’m sure they knew, General,” his tone holds very little certainty in it, only a small sliver of hope evident in his voice.

Hope that all will be well, hope that his brothers will be okay, hope that Plo will be okay.

Plo joins in silence, though clings onto the same hope nonetheless.

For now, it is all he has.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments on the previous chapter:D I honestly didn’t think I’d get any of that! it made me so happy—honestly!  
> Anyway, onto the story. This chapter will be Obi-Wan and Cody centric (with a hint of Codywan)!   
> If you have any questions or suggestions, chat with me on [tumblr](http://inkstranger.tumblr.com/)!   
> Who I do next is up to you all (Though I’m thinking that I may go for Bly and Aayla). As always, I’m my own beta, so beware! Tell me what you think by leaving a comment (and a kudos if you haven’t already), I live off of them!

Obi Wan can see the determination in Cody’s eyes. As can he the agitation.

His own hands ball into fist in his lap as he fights the urge to jump up and complete Cody’s task for him. But he made that mistake once, and has learned not to make it again.

Besides, Cody _can_ do this. As challenging as it is, he can do this.

It was a yogurt canister the day before, and after about thirty minutes, Cody had peeled the plastic covering off, and had even managed to feed himself by himself.

Today, it is a bottle of water sitting atop of the table (beside it sits a towel for precaution and Obi-Wan’s datapad).                                                     

And a bottle of water is a milestone considering just what injury Cody is recovering from.

At that thought, Obi-Wan lifts his gaze from the table where the water bottle sits, to the stitches crawling just past Cody’s dark hairline. They’ve healed tremendously, overtime, the wound nearly gone and blending in with the tan skin. The physical damage is nearly invisible, and for that Obi-wan is grateful.

The internal injuries heal at a slower rate, but they heal nonetheless.

And given that Cody’s loss of basic functions came from a self-inflected wound to the head (that, according to the medical staff, should have killed him), it is amazing that he came this far.

And he isn’t the only one recovering from the fallout of Order 66.

Following Anakin’s execution of the Chancellor, and his thwarting of the Jedi Purge, both the Republic and the Order fell into chaos. The military was in a frenzy, with more than half of the Jedi killed, and the clones too shell shocked to continue.

The creation behind the Clone Army had come to light days following the catastrophe, and both Senate and Order battled over the fate of the clones not soon after. The Senate called for a planet wide extermination of _all_ clones on both Kamino and Coruscant, to which the Order had protested against vehemently.

The Jedi (or what was left of them) had argued on the basis of the Clones being human, that killing them would be murder, and that the both the Order and the Republic had already put the clones through enough. They were slaves, slaves to the Republic, to the Jedi, and to the Separatist.

If the Republic wanted to avoid further staining their reputation, then they would recognize the Clones as people, not as property.

And thus talk of a sovereignty amongst the clones and rights ensued soon after.  

As well as psychological counselling and therapy, readily available for them all.

For the war. For their creation.  For their enslavement. And lastly for Order 66 and the agony that followed.

So _many_ had died (And if they hadn’t died, they’d deserted…Commander Bly being one of the most notable clones to do so). The guilt of killing and injuring their best friends had driven the clones to suicide one after the other. The realization of their creation didn’t help either. Suddenly they no longer felt like men, they felt like clankers. Used by the Separatist just as droids were.

Their number diminished just as quickly as the Jedi’s had.

Counselors tried to reach those they could, but more often than not they were too late. When clones broke, they broke hard.

They could go weeks, the Jedi found, without showing any signs of psychological trauma.  Therefore, it was hard to help those who needed it.

For that reason, Obi-Wan supposes, he never suspected Cody would attempt to take his own life.

His commander had seemed fine , albeit shaken after having attempted to kill his general. But when the truth had come to light and the actions of the chips exposed, he had fallen into step beside Obi-Wan as always, and together they worked to reform both the Order and Kamino.

Obi-Wan remembers feeling so grateful that Cody was still with him, feeling so relieved.

When Anakin had fallen, Obi-Wan had nearly lost it all. His former Padawan, his brother. He’d lost the Order too, lost his mentors and friends, had felt the Force fall dead silent as the onslaught of the Order had begun.

He’d lost his men too. Lost them just like Plo had lost his.

But Cody had not faltered. Cody remained strong.

Had mourned his men quickly and quietly, in Cody fashion, then jumped back to business like the commander he was born to be.  And it was his steadfastness and determination to fix what had been wrong that had pulled Obi-wan out of his depression soon after.

He was Obi-Wan’s constant. His cornerstone. He was Obi-Wan’s hope. His one promise that no matter how corrupt the world around them became, he’d always have Cody beside him.

And then he almost didn’t.

The day Cody attempted to take his life is one that Obi-Wan will _never_ forget; The wounds it left even deeper than that of Qui-Gon’s and Satine’s death.

There had been an irritation on the side of Obi-Wan’s head for most of that fated afternoon, a nagging sensation that promised a migraine if he allowed it to go unchecked.

And the Jedi had planned to do just that, as the information being discussed in the council chamber had been far _too_ important to miss (there were clones and Jedi alike discussing the future of both Kamino and the Order) . He’d managed as good as he could, digging his fingers into his knees until his knuckles had paled, and rubbing circles in his temple when the pain gotten quite dreadful.

At that moment, Obi-wan hadn’t known that he was sensing Cody’s distress.   
He hadn’t known that he had felt his beloved commander break.

No, he hadn’t known that until he’d stepped into his room and turned on the lights.

For all the gruesome corpses that the Jedi had seen during his time as a General, nothing shook his being as badly as Cody’s dying body had. He’d been shot on the side of the head, weapon still hot in his loose fingers, smoke emitting from the tip in dark, wispy tendrils.  Behind his slouched figure, a splatter of blood crawled up the wall, the red liquid like an explosion of fire against the cream colors.

Amber eyes dulled, focus downcast as the clone’s head leaned sideways atop of his shoulder. He looked at peace, expression only betrayed by the drying tears on his face.

It took everything in Obi-Wan’s being to keep himself steady and upright, to keep his composure calm and collected as he crossed the distance between the door and the injured solider, and began searching for vitals.

When he found the pulse, as faint as it was, he wasted no time in pulling himself together and calling for the healers as quickly as possible.

The moments that followed blended into a blur, most of which Obi-Wan could not recall.

One minute he was standing against the wall in the healing wing, horror stricken and utterly silent as the medical team worked to save Cody. The next, he was listening in disbelief as the healer explained the commander’s loss of basic functions and the prognosis of his condition.  

Obi-wan only seemed to come back to reality when the healer suggested sending Cody away to an institute to care for him. Then, Obi-Wan had volunteered to care for his former commander immediately.

The next few weeks saw the Jedi dedicating his time and energy to Cody’s recovery.

He’d shut out the outside world, spending his days in the rehab center when necessary, or in the small flat he’d bought for he and Cody.

Matters of the Senate and Order faded away as he focused souly on Cody’s rehabilitation.

He never complained, as the time away from the crumbling galaxy was welcomed.

The time away from _Anakin_ was welcomed (Obi-Wan avoided Anakin most days, and had eventually cut off _all_ communication with him. Cody’s condition had given him more of a reason to avoid his former Padawan).

There’s a snap, and the sound of plastic falling onto a surface. The noise brings the Jedi back to the present, and he’s met with the sight of the plastic bottle cap laying on top of the table.

Next, Cody is squeezing the bottle in his trembling hand, lifting it to his lips as water spills from the top. Obi-Wan reaches out to steady his hand, only to prevent more water from spilling on the former commander’s lap, and removes it when Cody regains his grip.

It isn’t long before Cody has the rim of the bottle on his lips, tiling it upwards slightly and letting the liquid pour into his mouth. Tendrils fall from the sides of his mouth, and roll down his chin. Obi-Wan is quick to pat dry the clone’s face and neck.

He keeps the bottle at his lips for a minute longer, gulping slowly as the contents trickle down his throat. It isn’t before long until the bottle is drained, and he slowly places the plastic back onto the table.

“Good job Cody,” Obi-Wan says gently, soft smile etched onto his features. Cody responds with one of his own, followed by a cheerful hum.

“We can do something else later on. The healers said you should be able to walk in the park now, would you like to go…”  
  
Obi-Wan goes silent as his data pad buzzes on the table, and he pales at the name that comes on the screen.

_Anakin Skywalker_

Cody looks at him, eyebrow’s furrowed and lips forming words.

“H-He c-called earlier. Y-you should a-answer.”

Obi-Wan responds by ending the incoming transmission early, much to the clone’s dismay. The unanswered call simply piles on top of the many hundreds. The Jedi knows how Cody feels about his strained relationship with Anakin. He’s worried about him, worried that he’s not taking care of himself. In Cody’s opinion, Anakin would make sure that Obi-Wan did just that.  

“Not...not now Cody,” Obi-Wan’s smile falters, and his finger hovers above the name. Despite his response, he so desperately _wants_ to answer, wants to call Anakin. Wants to yell at him, scream at him, wants to embrace him.

But more importantly, Obi-Wan wants to forget Anakin, and the pain he brings with him.  

“So the park later on? The weather is quite nice, and I think you’d rather enjoy it.”

Cody’s brows furrow, and he sighs. He knows when he’s lost a battle.

“S-sound great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn’t clear, Cody sustained a brain injury from his wound, and is taking the long road to recovery with Obi-Wan by his side.  
> And obviously Cody is totally pro-Obi-Wan speaking to his former padawan again and making up with him. I honestly think that out of everyone Anakin hurt, Obi-Wan was the one he hurt the most. I always wonder if Anakin did come back to the light, how their relationship would be. And in all honestly, I think it would be very strained for a very long time.   
> I think ObiWan would feel so betrayed, hurt, angry, and sad, that staying away from Anakin would be the only way he didn’t flat out hate him. Obi-Wan gave up so much and accepted so much when it came to Anakin, and I think seeing it thrown in his face, on top of order 66, would sever their connection on Obi-Wan’s part. That’s why he’s being how he is.   
> Anyway I’m thinking of doing a part with Bly and Aayla next :D And maybe later on returning to Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship, and Cody’s recovery. Also, Plo dealing with the death of his men and meeting his new wingman D: Also, I’m planning to write some Shaak Ti 

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK. I'm literally begging. Nothing suck more then writing for an empty audience. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! a few things I should probably clarify. Aside from Wolffe, Plo sees his clones as his sons. There’s nothing shippy going on between he and Warthog. However, I lowkey ship he and Wolffe, so there is something shippy there—if you read between the lines
> 
> Basically, the entire series consist of clones dealing with what they’ve done to their generals during Order 66, and how they cope with the knowledge that they almost killed their close friends. That said, I plan to write more depending on the feedback I get for this chapter. 
> 
> Who should I do next? Should I elaborate on Cody’s situation, or move to someone else like Bly and Aayla? Should I go into Anakin’s thought process during this all? You tell me what you want next! 
> 
> Also, please tell me if it’s any good. I’m so terribly nervous when I write and I haven’t written anything like this for a while, so I’d love comments and feedback! 
> 
> And lastly come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://inkstranger.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
